FMA: Mustang & Hawkeye: Scenes
by Cassaela
Summary: Various scenes from Fullmetal Alchemist, some from the manga or anime, some my own.
1. Death

:: Death

Blood, bright crimson, spluttered from his mouth. It soaked through the alchemical theory books spread before him, page by page,on the table.  
"Teacher? Teacher!!" Mustang's eyes were wild with panic.  
His alchemy teacher turned towards him. "My daughter... my daughter holds my research..." From his mouth spilt more blood. "Please... take care of her..." Finally, his eyes glazed over as he succumbed to the cold embrace of death.  
Not even his voice would respond; Mustang was frozen in shock. A sound from the doorway snapped him back to this world.  
He turned his head to see Riza Hawkeye, unmoving, eyes wide upon the still, still body of her father. 


	2. Crosshairs

:: Crosshairs

Perched on her sniping position high above Ishbael lay Hawkeye, peering through the crosshairs to watch her victim crumple to the ground. She was just about to radio in her confirmed kill, before something caught her eye.  
She adjusted the crosshairs to the face of the soldier she had just saved the life of.  
_ Roy Mustang?_

"What? You're joking."  
"So she's the renowned sniper, 'The Hawk's Eye'?"  
"Woah, I never imagined that she'd just be a girl."  
"I heard she's only seventeen as well!"  
"Don't underestimate her - she's probably saved all of our lives some time or another."  
She ignored the whispers of the soldiers resting in the camp. Hawkeye had already been made aware of her reputation.  
"May I help you there, miss?" one of the soldiers offered. "We don't see snipers round here that often, got some business?"  
"Thanks," Hawkeye answered, grateful for being spared finding someone to ask for help herself. "Not really, actually, though there is someone I would like to see..."

The area of the camp reserved for State Alchemists was considerably less crowded than the ordinary soldiers' space. They sat, quietly talking with each other or drinking coffee, clad in their blue uniform decorated with at least the ranks of majors. Hawkeye's eyes met with his at the same moment.  
"Miss Hawkeye," Mustang greeted.  
She nodded in recognition. "It's been a while."  
"You were the sniper covering me earlier?" he assumed. "Thanks." He drew up a chair for her. She sat.  
"So you became a state alchemist after all."  
"I did, like I said I would, and here I am: a dog of the military."  
"No regrets?" she questioned, eyeing him carefully.  
Mustang swept the scene around him - soldiers everywhere, not just their energy drained by the heavy cloud of war. Further was Ishbael, the battlefield, reduced to crumbling buildings and hollow-eyed civilians. Many lives, on both sides, had been extinguished. "I was prepared for this," he finally said. His laugh was hollow. "Though no amount of preparation can ever shield us from the horrors of battle."  
"I know." Hawkeye sighed. "However, in a way, I am behind the shield of my gun and the distance between us and my victim. The only hole of this shield is the crosshairs." She glanced at his eyes again. "I would think, as a State Alchemist, it would be a lot worse."  
Mustang returned her gaze steadily. "It is."  
Some moments passed between them in silence, not awkward, but peaceful. Hawkeye rose.  
"Thank you for coming here," Mustang responded to her gesture to leave.  
"Major." She departed with a solemn salute.

_24/7/09_


	3. Shellshock

:: Shellshock

Whole truckfuls of them trickled from the battlefields. Like bands of pale ghosts they sat, unspeaking, unmoving - the shellshocked soldiers. The Amestrian Army had left Ishbael scattered and broken, nevertheless, not without price. Hawkeye could still see the vast plains of rough stone graves, view shrouded by the clouds of dry dust the vehicle displaced. She had seen her fair share of the unspeakable terrors of war, yet she knew, compared to other soldiers, snipers were lucky.  
With the army in disarray, Hawkeye had found herself sharing a truck with a company of a variety of occupations: infantry, fellow snipers, and State Alchemists. Isolated in the corner was Mustang. His eyes were open, unseeing - a corpse's stare. He did not respond to the most violent jerk of the truck; the only thing about him which moved at all was the messy black hair around his face, shifting in the wind. Despite the warm, dry climate, he had a deep grey trenchcoat pulled around him, as if to create a barrier.  
Hawkeye could not stand his ghoul-like trance any longer. She weaved her way through the crowd to sit near him, careful to respect his comfort by not placing herself too close. At first, he did not seem to want to react. Then he slowly, slowly shifted his gaze to Hawkeye's face.  
She could see, now, what he had been through. His ebony eyes were even darker with the burden only of a soldier from the front line. In them a mass of experiences were laden: pain and blood and murder, fear, regret. Hawkeye could not even find the words to say to him.  
Then he spoke. "There is Hell on Earth." It was but a whisper. "That is what I've learnt - I have seen it."  
"...I'm sorry."  
"And after all the terrible things I've done, they're promoting me, giving me a team under my command." Suddenly he said, "In Central, come see me." He lifted his head a little higher, level with hers. "Would you?"  
Hawkeye immediately understood his proposal. "Of course, Sir."

_24/7/09_


End file.
